


The Opposite Of This

by Cesare, helens78



Series: Acetylene [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Break Up, Character of Color, Dom/sub, F/M, First Meetings, Minor Character(s), Psychic Bond, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/pseuds/Cesare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jason finally finds his soulmate, at first he's the happiest guy on Earth.  But he keeps putting off telling his newfound soulmate that he's a mutant, until there's no hiding from it anymore.  (Occurs between chapters 46 and 47 of "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/286147">Unbound</a>".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Opposite Of This

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the [Bound and Determined](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bound_and_determined) universe, featuring an _extremely_ minor Marvel Comics character. (Hey, when the universe is as big as BD!verse, sometimes you have to dig deep!)
> 
> Anne is from a 1992 Chris Claremont graphic novel called "God Loves, Man Kills" (Marvel Graphic Novel #5). [Here's Anne's page on the Marvel Wiki](http://marvel.wikia.com/Anne_%28Mutant%29_%28Earth-616%29).
> 
> This takes place between chapters 46 and 47 of "[Unbound](http://archiveofourown.org/works/286147)", and happens approximately three months before the first major story in the "Acetylene" series.

Jason's been in Arizona for a day and a half, but he just _knows_. He knows this is the place, he knows the time is now. He stares at a map at the airport when he first lands, and when he sees the name _Scottsdale_ , he's sure. That's where he's going.

Once he's gotten a shuttle to the hotel and gotten himself unpacked, he takes a shower, not rushing. He checks his hair a dozen times, projects images of himself in all the different outfits he brought along for the trip and looks them over critically. But in the end he picks out a simple pair of black jeans and a green t-shirt, his only ornament the bronze wristband Erik made for him so long ago. He can feel her nearby, right there-- he's going to meet her _today_.

He steps out of the hotel, takes a deep breath, feels around for her presence, and when he turns to his left, there she is. Long brown hair, pale blue eyes, one hand over her mouth as she stares at him.

He's the first one to move. He's always thought the phrase _eating em with my eyes_ was over-the-top, even for him, but now it's true; he couldn't stop looking at her if he tried. She's short, coming up to his shoulder but not much taller than that. No telling what her ancestry is-- she's white, but he couldn't hazard a guess as to whether her family's from England or Germany or Russia, and he doesn't know her name yet. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what her name is; she's _his_. Finally somebody's _his_.

"It's me."

"It's you," she whispers. "Oh my God, you found me, I didn't know if you'd ever find me."

It's unreal, it's like nothing he's ever felt before. He's been in love for ten years, for longer, since before he even knew what love _was_ , but this blows all of those feelings out of the water. He reaches out, and she slips her hand into his.

"My name is Jason," he tells her.

"I'm Anne."

He wraps an arm around her back, and she slips her hand from his grip and twines both arms around his neck. "I missed you," she whispers. "I missed you every second I was blocking you, I'll never do that again--"

"It doesn't matter now. I'm _here_." And he bends his head down and kisses her, while she curves both hands around the back of his neck and presses tightly against soul's-home.

He breaks away, already breathing hard, and her eyes are glazed and beautiful. She licks her lips, her fingers still tousling his hair, but they're technically in public-- it's just that no one's around. He could blank them, give them all the privacy in the world, let her touch him anywhere she wants... but they're just meeting for the first time, and right now the idea of seeing her react like some humans have, freaking out at his ability to show off emotions or conceal things from public view... he'd die. He'd curl into a ball and die, right here on the street.

"Are you staying here?" she asks, nodding back at the hotel. "Can we... go to your room?"

"Come on," he says, catching one of her hands in his and digging into his pocket with the other, getting his keycard right back out. "Come on, let's go inside."

It's an awkward walk, because Anne keeps pressing herself against Jason's side, getting so close they nearly trip over each other. Jason doesn't care. He wouldn't want her anywhere else, not an inch further away.

* * *

Jason's used to sex. He's used to _good_ sex. Sex with Anne is different, special. He can feel what she's feeling, the bubbling excitement, the warmth and love and trust she's giving him, and when he strokes his hands down her arms to caress the insides of her wrists, he can feel the breathless glee and anticipation, the _hope_ there. He circles her wrists gently with his fingers, and she squirms under him, breath coming faster and faster. "Oh, yes, _please_ , I want you to-- please, please..."

He draws her wrists up next to her head, pins her down with a firm grip that nonetheless stays gentle where it counts. He's not squeezing, not holding so tightly as to be uncomfortable, let alone leave bruises. She's beautiful, but there's an instinct telling him he shouldn't be trying for that, maybe she isn't into that. Not into pain, okay, not a problem. He won't miss it, not really.

She arches up, trying to claim a kiss, and he bends down immediately, lets her have it, opens his mouth to her and lets her explore and stroke her tongue against his all she wants. He can almost hear her in his head, they're so close, so in sync. He can nearly hear it when her heart fills and she first thinks, _I love you_.

"I love you, too," he whispers, "I always did, I'm so glad to be here--"

"I love you _so much_ ," she whispers back. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you--"

And that's a surprise, her picking up on that; he _was_ hurt, it _did_ hurt being cut off. Years, it hurt; she was gone for four years, and all he could do was wonder why.

"It doesn't matter," he tells her again, finally able to say it and mean it. "You're mine now, you're _mine_ , I'm never going to lose you again--"

"Never," she promises. She wraps one of her legs around his waist. "Jason... please. Make love to me?"

He does, and it's spectacular, he's never felt anything like it. Even Erik-- even that last time with Erik, before all this got started, it was beautiful and bright and perfect and _not like this_ , never like this. The tight slick clench of her, the way her body moves beneath his, everything up to and including the way she smells when he buries his face in her hair... he's killing himself holding back all his illusions, all the feelings he can't possibly express through anything but his mutation, but he wants to tell her first, wants her to know about it before she sees it live and in person.

She wrenches her mouth away from his when she comes, gasping for air and crying out, and he's right there with her, his hands on her wrists, his body moving slow and smooth into hers, and it's perfect. It's perfect. Everything is perfect.

* * *

They nap, curled around each other, Jason's nose pressed against Anne's hair and nuzzling at her joining spot. When she wakes up, she rolls him onto his back and rides him, and he just stares up at her, overcome. "You're beautiful," he breathes, rocking up, feeling her take him in, again and again. "You're so beautiful, God, I could look at you forever..."

"I know," she says, tears leaking from her eyes, making her lashes sparkles with the moisture. "I know, I never thought, I'd never even _imagined_ , I didn't know anything could _be_ like this..."

He catches her hands, and they lace them together, holding each other as she finally starts to move it into a higher pitch, a more certain one. She's warm and perfect and everything he's ever wanted, and he arches up beneath her and comes, and she's there with him, following him over, the two of them connected, joined, beautiful, _one_.

* * *

It's like that for hours, until he's chafed and can't possibly get it up again, until she's complaining of being sore but smiling at him all the same.

"I could still lick you if you think..."

"Oh, God. Don't get started, I come like _crazy_ if someone's going down on me," she says. "Especially if ropes are involved..."

"I could definitely arrange rope."

She beams at him. "Then maybe later? I'm starving."

"We could go out." Her face falls just a little. "Or we could order room service...?"

"I really don't want to be anywhere else. With anyone else. I just want to be with you."

He smiles, and smiles, and smiles. "I know exactly what you mean."

* * *

They're up until one in the morning, talking. He finds out the story behind her blocking him, finally-- med school-- and he discovers she's a pediatrician now. "I thought about specializing in obstetrics, but sometimes that gets so depressing..."

He nods; her face is somber, and he can feel a lot of sorrow and regret through the bond. And something else... it's too early to tell what all these feelings are, he's not used to getting them from someone else. "Pediatrics must be hard, too, sometimes. Having kids come in because they're sick, having to scare them sometimes with needles... parents who must be terrified..."

"Yeah. I mean, most of what I do is routine. Checkups. Little bumps and bruises. The flu. But once in a while there's someone that needs more than that, and it _is_ hard. Plus kids kick sometimes." She laughs. "I don't mind. Do you have a big family?"

"Sort of." He smiles, tugs her a little more closely against him. "In the immediate family, it's just me. Me and Mom and Dad." He realizes right away that she doesn't know this part of his history, one of the most important parts, so he explains immediately: "I'm adopted. Mom and Dad are actually white, but they've been Mom and Dad since I was a baby, I went home with them the same day I was born. Private adoption in California."

"Oh. Oh, okay, that's cool," she says, although there's a slight stiffness in her body that surprises him. "So you grew up in California?"

"No, Nebraska. Mom's family lives there-- lived there, everyone's gone now-- and Dad's family was from Boston."

She relaxes again at that. "Boston! Does that mean you're a Red Sox fan?"

"It's a curse," he sighs. "You learn to live with it."

Anne laughs, brushing his hair off her forehead. "Well, I guess I'll have to, too," she teases. "I grew up in New York. Yankees fan."

"Yankees _suck_ ," he says, immediately, completely out of reflex, and she sticks her tongue out at him. He can't help himself. He leans forward and licks it.

"I love you," she tells him. "I don't care if you have terrible taste in baseball teams."

"Right back at you," he says, and then he ends up feeling warm and mushy inside, and says it for real: "I love you, too. God. I love you so much, this is _crazy_ , has anything _ever_ felt this way for you?"

"Not even close," she tells him. "This is amazing. I can't believe I ever thought I should live without it. I missed you every single day, I swear, I thought about you every day..."

He can't help it, then; he's got tears welling, and he bends his head to her shoulder and tries to breathe. "I didn't know," he whispers. "I never knew why, I thought maybe I did something, I thought you changed your mind, or that there was someone else..."

"There's no one else," she says, hugging him hard. "There's never been anyone else, I'm practically a virgin--"

His head pops up. "Oh my God, I didn't realize, I would've--"

"Practically," she says, smiling. "You were perfect. Every single second of this has been perfect, I love you so much, you did everything I ever could have dreamed of."

"You were perfect, too," he says, kissing her forehead. "You're _still_ perfect. I don't ever want to leave this hotel room."

"Then we'd better order room service," she teases, leaning back and groping for the telephone on the nightstand. "What do you think, what sounds good? I have this urge for breakfast-for-dinner, if you like breakfast..."

"Pancakes and eggs and bacon and sausage. And a cinnamon roll. Bring it on." He grins. "I'm not working for another couple months."

"Working?" But she's dialing room service and putting in their order, and by the time she comes back, she's rolling on top of him, smiling down at him again. "They said an hour. We probably don't have time for you to go down on me before then, but if you're not too chafed, maybe I could..."

His eyes go wide, and he reaches up, threads his fingers through her hair. "Please. Oh, God, yes, that sounds fantastic."

She couldn't possibly be smiling more. "Okay, I so totally hit the jackpot. You're one of those doms who actually gets that it's _nice_ to say please, that it's polite-- you don't just avoid it 'cause it isn't dommy--"

He grins right back at her. "Please and thank you are very important words," he teases. "Please, would you go down on me? I promise to say thank you after."

"Well, with an offer like that, how could I possibly do otherwise," she says, laughing, crawling down the bed.

* * *

Jason sends Erik a text that says it all: [FOUND HER.]

Erik texts back right away: [I'm so happy for you. Tell me all about it when you come up for air?]

Jason has to laugh. [Arizona. She's a doctor. Her name is Anne. Seeker rush! :D The only reason I can even text is because she's peeing...]. He looks up as Anne comes back in from the bathroom, and quickly finishes off the text with [gtg, xoxo] before putting his phone down.

"Making the big announcement to someone?" she teases.

"My best friend," Jason says. "Erik. He and I were both on seeker trips." There's a little pang in his stomach when he says that-- it was going to be so much more than just a seeker trip, and he owes Erik more than a couple of fast text messages. But Anne is... she's everything. Jason can't imagine wanting more than her, not even Erik. And maybe Erik's found what he's looking for, maybe he's found something that's going to lead him to his soulmate after all.

Years and years of being bitter about the way Erik's been carrying a torch for his soulmate, and now he understands completely. Jason reaches out and pulls Anne back into bed, hugs her tightly and presses his face to her chest. "I love you," he says softly. "You're amazing."

" _You're_ amazing," she tells him. She strokes her hand through his hair, rubs at his joining spot again. Her hands slide down his arms, and she pauses at his left wrist, at the bronze wristband Erik made for him back in high school. "What's this, do you mind if I ask?"

"The friend I was calling? He made it for me, years and years ago."

"Must be some friend." She pauses. "More than a friend?"

"We used to scene together sometimes," Jason admits. "His soulmate... went missing, before they could meet."

"Oh, that's so sad," Anne murmurs. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too. But he's never given up hope."

She smiles at him. "Like you?"

It's not... it isn't right, letting her think that, but now that they're together, it _feels_ like the truth. "Like me, I guess," he says, though he adds, "though-- there were some years there that I..."

She puts her fingers against his lips. "I know," she whispers. Her eyes are wet again. "I don't blame you. I would have felt the same way."

"But it's different now. Everything's different now." He slides the wristband off, sets it gently on the nightstand. "Now the only person I want to belong to is you."

"I feel that, too," she whispers. "I never thought it could be like this, you know? I thought it was all just people exaggerating. But this... you..." She pulls back, caresses his face. "I want to sleep with you tonight."

"I want to sleep with you _every_ night," Jason says, but he realizes as soon as he says it that she means more than just theoretically sleeping side by side, or even sex. His eyes widen. "You mean acknowledgement, don't you?"

"Yes." She bites gently at her lower lip. "I want that. But if you want to wait..."

"I don't want to wait for anything," he tells her. It seems almost impossibly romantic, acknowledging alone, just the two of them. It's going to be perfect. It's _perfect_.

* * *

He thinks he might be too excited to sleep, at first, but after one more round, they fall into bed, exhausted and happy, falling asleep together almost immediately. It's hard to imagine that he could wake up feeling even more tied to her, but he does-- she's a part of him, it's more obvious than ever, and when she rolls over and blinks her eyes open, he kisses her.

He understands now-- why everyone calls people without soulmates "half-souls", why everyone struggles all their lives to find this, why Erik could never give up the hope of finding his again. It's more real than anything he's ever felt before; it's a blaze of love that feels like it might consume both of them. And they probably wouldn't even mind.

The second day's spent a lot like the first, clinging to each other, endless kissing, sending out for clothes for Anne. She laughs when he calls the front desk to talk them into it, but she isn't laughing when sacks and sacks from the nearby mall start to show up at the door, like so much room service. She models everything, beams at the things he bought for her.

There's a collar in among the packages, and she caresses it gently with her fingertips. It's a simple gold chain with a padlock charm, although not a functional one. It seems like he got it right, though, because her eyes light up when she looks at him. "Will you put it on me?" she whispers.

"Yes," Jason says, heart pounding. "Do you want to kneel?"

She does. He fastens the collar on, looking at the glint of it against her skin and feeling his eyes fill with tears. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he says, choked up. "God, come here, come here--"

She flies into his arms, and in just a few minutes, that collar is all either of them are wearing.

* * *

"I had a dog when I was growing up," Anne says. "Did you ever have pets?"

"Not real ones," Jason mumbles, tucking his face against her arm.

"We'll fix that," Anne says, laughing. "We should have dogs. Puppies."

"That would be wonderful," he says. It's tempting to make one now, a little corgi puppy that can scurry around in bed with them, but he still hasn't told her about his mutation, and he's not sure now is the time. It _will_ be time, he _will_ talk to her about it, but the warmth and love he's felt from her since they met is every reassurance he needs that she'll love him all the same. They _belong_ to each other. He's never been more certain of anything in his life.

"Babies," she murmurs. "I want a huge family. I want as many as we can have."

"I love kids," Jason murmurs back. "I used to volunteer at a youth center when I was still in college. It was great. They were great."

"At least four," she tells him. "You and me and our beautiful little babies..."

Day two and day three follow one on top of the other, room service, shared showers, a lot of time just spent holding each other, as if to make up for the years they spent apart. Jason's never been this happy in his life.

* * *

Day four is different. It starts at breakfast, when they decide to leave the hotel room-- if for no other reason than to let the cleaning staff change the sheets. They have lunch at an outdoor cafe, shaded under a huge umbrella. It's warm here even in early May; Jason figures he'll get used to it. He'll still have to travel for work, but now he has a _home_ to come back to.

"Um-- um, excuse me, I hate to interrupt--"

Jason blinks up, puts his fork down and stops feeding Anne his waffle. It's a kid, maybe sixteen years old, a faint bluish cast to his skin and tiny little tentacles extending from behind his ears, mostly covered by his long blond hair. "Hi," he says, smiling. "How's it going?"

"You know, actually--" Anne starts, reeling back a little in her chair, away from the kid. "We were kind of in the middle of something here--"

Jason shakes his head. "It's cool, though."

"Oh." The kid looks a little rattled by Anne; Jason flashes a glance at her. She's got a bit of an odd look on her face, but Jason doesn't want this kid to go away feeling bad; he stands up and offers the kid his hand.

"Jason," he says.

"I know," the kid beams, quickly taking Jason's hand and shaking it. "My name's Webster. I'm a really big fan."

Jason can't help laughing. "I'm never going to get used to that," he admits. "I can go almost anywhere in the world, and nobody's ever heard of me, but once in a while..."

"Well, it's different in the mutant community," Webster says, smiling shyly. "Everybody knows you out here. We have Jason Wyngarde nights at the youth center, there's a fan club."

"You're kidding." Jason grins and pulls out his cell phone. "Tell me where it is, I'll drop off some signed DVDs or something."

Webster looks like his eyes are going to pop out of his head, and the bluish cast to his skin is getting deeper, like a blush only in blue. His tentacles are quivering with excitement. It's _adorable_. "Well, I mean, not just you, other mutant actors too, it's, it's..."

Jason can't help laughing. "Okay, that makes a little more sense. I was going to say, you'd get _real_ tired of 'Brain Eaters'..."

That draws a little nervous laugh out of Webster, but as nervous as it is, it sounds real. "Seriously, I was only... I just wanted to say hi, I didn't want to bug you for an autograph or anything."

"I'm totally cool with autographs," Jason assures him. "If you've got something..."

"Yeah! Yeah, hold on, let me--" Webster looks over his shoulder. "Over at my table, do you mind if I, it won't take long--"

"Go ahead," Jason says, nodding. Webster runs off, and Jason smiles down at Anne.

Who isn't smiling. She's staring after Webster, and she's clenching her napkin in her hands.

"What's the matter?" Jason asks, but there's something cold forming in the pit of his stomach. "What happened?"

She doesn't say anything, just shakes her head a couple of times. When Webster comes back with a paperback-- it's got nothing to do with Jason, but it's a book of poems by a mutant author-- Jason signs it with a flourish. "Do you, could you..." Webster looks from Jason to Anne. "Could I maybe... get a picture...?"

"Of course."

Webster takes his cell phone out of his pocket and pulls up the camera app; he tries handing it to Anne, who doesn't reach out for it. Jason intercepts and hands it over, and Anne attempts a smile. It doesn't go far.

"Just, um, hold the button until the shutter graphic comes on," Webster says, and Jason slides up next to him, puts an arm around his shoulders as Webster almost vibrates with glee. Anne takes the picture, and she hands the camera back to Jason, who gives it to Webster.

He's got one last-minute hope for what this could be; maybe she's just unhappy she hasn't been formally acknowledged. It's his first chance to introduce her to someone as his soulmate, after all. Jason gestures at Anne. "I'm sorry, I'm being really rude. This is my soulmate, Anne."

"Oh! Congratulations," Webster says, smiling at both of them. "I didn't know you were bonded, all the blogs are always wondering who... oh my God, I didn't say that, I did _not_ just mention blogs around you," he says, going almost indigo.

"I know about the blogs, don't worry," Jason teases. "But it's brand new, we only just acknowledged a couple of days ago."

"That's great, though," Webster says. "I'm so happy for you."

"Me, too."

It's not doing any good. Anne's still jammed against the back of her chair, and the vibe is getting more and more awkward, and all Jason can think is _no, oh God, please no, not this, anything but this._

"Have a good day," Jason says smoothly. "Take care, and I'll see about that youth center."

"Right. Right! Thank you. Thank you so much," Webster says, and off he goes.

Jason sits back down and looks carefully at Anne. "Are you all right?"

"We need to go back to the hotel," she says, face and voice strained. "Right now."

* * *

He pays cash just to get them out of there faster; he probably overtips by a lot. But he doesn't want to make her wait, and as they walk down the street, he reaches out for her hand.

She flinches away from him. It hurts so much it's a real, physical pain, spiking through his body.

At the hotel, she takes a seat on the bed, and he stands up, out of reach. "What?" he asks quietly.

"Have I heard of you?"

"I don't think so." He shuffles his feet. "I'm... I don't think so. I mean. I'm Jason Wyngarde, I told you my name, I told you I'm an actor--"

"I know, but... _he_ knew you, that sub knew you--"

"He's a mutant," Jason says carefully. "I'm popular with mutant audiences."

"Why the hell would you be popular with mutant audiences?"

"Because I'm... because I'm a mutant?"

In his whole life he's never once said that phrase without pride, if not a little defiance, too. But this time his voice is trembling, like he's fucking _apologizing_ for being who he is. Oh, God.

"You didn't tell me, oh my God, you should have told me." She covers her face with her hands. "You should have told me right away, why didn't you tell me...?"

And this is why. He _knew_ , somehow; the same instincts that told him how to touch her, how to hold her... they were all working overtime, justifying all the subject changes, all the times he let it go, all the times he didn't say. "You're my soulmate," he whispers. "I thought you'd be okay with it..."

"I'm not okay with this," Anne says, shaking. "I need-- I need a shower, I need--"

Jason flushes and walks away, over to the window, clearing a path between her and the bathroom. She runs for it, slamming the door behind her; through the bond, he can feel her anger and her pain and her misery, all of them threatening to overwhelm him.

Anger, pain, misery... fear. Because he's a mutant. Because of _him_.

His hands are shaking; he tries to dig into his pocket for his cell phone, but he can't steady his hands enough to do it. He doesn't know what he'd do. Text Erik? Call his mother? What could he do?

His soulmate's in the bathroom, showering his touch off her skin after three straight days of making love, making plans for the future. This can't be happening to him.

When she comes out, her eyes are red, and her face is drawn. "Hi," she says. "I need to dress. Can you... turn around, please?"

There's no part of her he hasn't seen, touched, tasted. He closes his eyes and turns while she unpacks another of the outfits he bought for her, and dresses.

"Okay."

Sitting on the bed again, she has tissues clutched in her hand. "You're a mutant," she says. "But you look normal."

There's no way he's going to make it through this conversation without throwing up. God.

"I _look_ normal," Jason repeats dully. "No. I _am_ normal, Anne. I'm just not baseline."

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me right away." She reaches out for a second but stops herself, hand dropping to her side. "You can't be... you look human."

Jason covers his face with both hands. Of course it doesn't help. He can still feel her, sense her. Every tear. Every strand of her hair. This is all _so wrong_ , and there's nothing he can do to fix it.

"I never wanted to be human," Jason says. "My mutation manifested earlier than I can remember. I was identified at four."

" _Four_ ," Anne repeats. Her skin's going grey. "What... what can you do?"

Fuck it. She wants to know? He can show her.

He pulls up one of his favorite places, his parents' back yard in Park View, from when he was a kid. He morphs the bed into a swingset, both of them on separate swings. Anne gasps, a strangled noise catching in her throat. Her head whips wildly around, and she looks... terrified. _Fuck._

"You're a teleporter?" she asks. "Take me back, take me back right now, I didn't ask to come here with you, let me go _right now_ \--"

"We didn't go anywhere," Jason says, dropping the illusion. Anne sags with relief. "I'm an illusionist. I make illusions."

She gives him a wary look. "We weren't gone?"

"No. Look." Something smaller this time. He brings in that corgi puppy, lets it run up to Anne, but she scrambles backwards onto the bed, mewling a little in horror.

"Get it away. Get it away from me."

Jason beckons, and the puppy comes right over to him. And thank God, because he needs it. He needs something to hold onto, and once he's lifted it up into his lap, the puppy licks his face while Jason stops trying to hold back tears. "This is me," he says. "This is who I am."

She's staring at him, shaking her head. "What do you really look like?"

He buries his face in the puppy's fur. A real puppy would probably be squirming to get away, but this one just lets him hold on. "This is who I am," he whispers. "I promise. It's me."

"How would I ever know? My God, you could do anything, look like anyone-- you could impersonate the President-- you could rob banks--"

"I would never do that," Jason snaps, looking up. "Goddamnit, Anne, you _know_ me. You know me better than anyone, you _know_ I'd never do that."

"You lied to me for three straight days!" Anne fires back. "I don't know anything about you, and with your illusions, I never will. I'll never know if I'm looking at the real you. Or the real anything. You could chain me up in a basement and I would never even know."

Jason just stares at her. Her expression of horror when she saw the puppy has nothing on his look now.

"Anne-- I _love_ you. I love you so much, I would _never_ \--"

"I'm only human, why would you even care?"

"You're my soulmate. You're mine. I cared about you the second I saw you--"

"I should never have stopped blocking you."

Jason breaks down entirely at that, holding onto his puppy and crying. For a second, he feels a burst of sympathy from Anne, but then it vanishes in a wave of disgust.

"I can't believe you're holding onto that-- that _thing_. It isn't even there? Really? And you're crying on it? Jesus, dom up-- we have to sort through this."

"So maybe it's a fucking illusion," Jason manages, looking up at her. The puppy looks at her, too, and it snarls, tiny and adorable, the picture of Jason's tentative emotional state. "It's doing a better job caring for me than you are."

Anne snaps back, hurt filtering through their bond, but just as quickly she's reaching for disgust again. Reaching for it on purpose. Jason feels sick, and that's enough for him to let the puppy vanish; he staggers to his feet and heads for the bathroom, barely making it there before he's tossing his cookies and spitting bile into the toilet.

He brushes his teeth and washes his face before coming back out. Anne's standing in the center of the room, hugging herself. The disgust has faded into something else, something more like... hope? He comes over to her, stopping a foot away, holding his breath. "Anne. Sweetheart... there has to be something we can do..."

"I just can't stop thinking of what we can't do. I have a recessive X-gene. We can't have children."

Jason's heart leaps-- a recessive gene, she's a mutant like him!-- but just as quickly the tears are welling again. Not like him. She's not like him. "Of course we can have children--"

She shakes her head emphatically. "I worked in a maternity ward for a while as part of my residency," she says flatly. "I saw some little freak babies while I was there. Most of them killed their mothers in childbirth. I'm not dying to bring another mistake into the world."

He can't believe he's following that bullshit up with this, but he has to, somehow. "We could adopt, then."

"No. _No._ I'm not raising up some stranger and pretending like he's mine. I would always know the truth."

Jason gapes at her for a second, and then he feels the flush rising up in his cheeks. "Fuck you," he stammers, for the very first time-- because it's that, somehow, that breaks the floodgates. "I _told_ you about me, did you just forget? Did you think Wyngarde was a Japanese name or something?"

She blinks. "What...?"

"I'm adopted." Maybe she really did forget; maybe the seeker rush wiped it out for her. He remembers the look on her face when he told her; maybe she was _trying_ to forget. "I was adopted at birth. And _fuck you_ , my parents aren't strangers, they're not pretending I'm theirs. I'm their _son_." He flashes a picture of his parents into the room, even though it makes Anne backpedal. "My mother, Pat. My father, Rick. They chose me. They love me." He wishes they were here; he's twenty-six years old, and God, he wants his mother. "You have a fetish for baseline genetics, that's on you, but don't you _dare_ tell me I'm not real, that my family isn't real. What else isn't real for you? Unoriented people? My best friend is unoriented," oh God, _Erik_ , Erik's been texting, Erik's out there _waiting_ for him. What is he doing here, what has he _ever_ been doing here? He should have let her block him, left it all alone. _Erik._ "And I've loved him almost all my life."

"Is he a mutant, too?"

"Yeah, but maybe you'd like him better than me, he tests beta," Jason snaps.

Anne flinches. "What do you...?"

"Psi." And that still burns him up a little. "If my illusions could show up on camera they might classify me as Omega, but at least I'm fucking close."

Anne sits down heavily on the bed again. "Psi," she repeats. "Jesus. I thought... I was going to ask if you'd ever thought about suppressing it. They have drugs for that now. Psychitrex..."

"No," Jason whispers. "No, I'm not going to do that. Not for anybody."

She looks up at him, and he knows. He knows already. And he's ready to say it, too.

"This isn't going to work," Anne says.

"No. It isn't."

"What do you want to..." Her hand comes up to her throat, touching her collar.

Jason's head drops, but he manages to say, "Come here and I'll take it off you."

She does, though she shakes a little when she gets close. And when she's turned away from him, he cheats it: he conjures a floating pair of hands and takes the collar off her. He's afraid if he actually touched her, he might lose some of his resolve. He's darkly satisfied by the fact that she can't tell the difference between real hands and illusionary ones. Not _real_. To him it's _all_ real, but they're not going to have time for him to explain that.

The instant the collar's off, she takes three steps across the room. "Okay," she says. "I should... I'll change..."

"I _wish_ ," Jason mutters. "No. The clothes, the presents... keep them, burn them, whatever. They're yours." He heads to the closet and grabs out his laptop bag, then goes to his nightstand and packs up the few things he needs for his flight home. He's leaving his clothes, he's leaving his toothbrush and his razor, but it doesn't matter. He needs to go, he needs to _get out_. He can buy more fucking pants when he gets back to L.A.. "Everything here is yours. Take what you want. Leave what you don't. I'm going."

She doesn't say a word; she doesn't follow him out into the hall. He can't bear the elevator right now, so he takes the two flights of steps down to the main floor, and when he gets to the lobby, he blanks the tears off his face and the strain out of his voice and asks the sub at the front desk for a cab to the airport.


End file.
